A 4th of July Carol
by pastaaddict
Summary: America begs England to come to his birthday party on the 4th of July, a thing England absolutely refuses to do but, this year, some ghosts have decided to teach him the error of his ways and to move forward from the past! Counting down to the 4th of July! HAPPY 4TH OF JULY, AMERICA!
1. Please Come To My Party!

**I was toying with the idea of doing a Hetalia version of _A Christmas Carol_ and then thought 'What about a 4th of July version!' I will try to post a chapter a day and hopefully the last chapter will be on the 4th. This first chapter is short but they will get longer so here we go!**

 **I don't own Hetalia or A Christmas Carol!**

 ** _Chapter 1:Please Come To My Party!_**

England glared at the invitation that he had just taken out of the envelope that had been placed in his hand. A red, white and blue party invitation. An invitation to America's birthday party and England looked up at the person who had just handed it to him. America's sky-blue eyes looked at him hopefully and Nantucket bounced against his sandy hair as he jigged up and down like a kid at Christmas, hoping he would get what he wished for. England just stared at America. Every year he did this and England never accepted. Why did the thoughtless brat think it would be any different this time. America knew he hated this time of year.

"America …."

"Awwwh! Come on, Iggy," America begged. "You've never been to one of my birthday parties. I promise you'll have fun."

"I sincerely doubt it," England muttered, staring back down at the card in his hand like it was about to bite him. "And don't call me Iggy! It's Britain, England, UK or even Arthur. Not Iggy!"

"Whatever, Iggy," America replied. "I want ya to be there, dude. Just once!"

"Sorry," England said.

"Please!"

"I have plans!"

"Can't you cancel 'em," America plead.

"No!" America decided to pull out the big guns.

"Well," he said with a self-sacrificing tone, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes behind his glasses and his lower lip pushed out into a pout. "If ya really don't wanna, I guess it's okay but I did kinda plan for you to be there so if you don't come, you will kinda spoil it for everyone."

"I'm sure everyone will have a good time without me," England replied, turning away from America's puppy dog face before it shook his resolve. "Probably better. I'm sorry, America, but the answer's no!" He shoved the invitation back into its envelope and dropped it on to his coffee table.

What! America could not believe that did not work. Japan had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. America reached into the inner pocket of his leather bomber jacket and pulled out another envelope and dropped it on top of the invitation.

"If ya change your mind," he said. "That's a plane ticket for the 3rd. I really want you to be there, Iggy." He turned and left.

England stood there for a while, looking at the door and then down at the invitation and plane ticket. Truth was he wanted to be there for America's birthday but America's birthday was tied to the Revolutionary War and America's Independence which always resulted in England falling ill and England did not want America to see him like that.

Besides, even though he did not now, the fact that America had, at one time, grown to hate him so much that he went to war against England to get away from him, hurt England so much, it was like a rusty, jagged knife stabbing him right to the soul. He could not go. It might be cowardly but he could not face it.

He walked past the table and the two envelopes.

* * *

Sat in the late evening, sipping Earl Grey, England was in his favourite chair, reading the evening paper but he could feel the presence of the elephant in the room, like a restless spirit. He glanced around the edge of his paper at the envelopes still sat on his table. They looked so innocuous, just sitting there but to England, they were like a couple of time bombs waiting to go off. He brought the paper back to hide the envelopes from view but he could still feel their presence.

Finally, he could not stand to be in the same room any more so he folded up his paper and dropped it on the table beside the invitation and plane ticket and went to his bookshelf. Plucking _A Christmas Carol_ by Charles Dickens from the shelf (because he wanted to get as far away from the 4th of July as possible), he retired to bed.

* * *

After changing into his pyjamas and brushing his teeth, England settled back on to his pillow and opened his book.

 _Jacob Marley was dead!_

Cheerful beginning but soon England was lost in the story and the characters. The bitterness of Scrooge toward the Christmas season, Bob Cratchitt, working hard for a pittance to support his family, Scrooge's nephew trying hard to get his uncle to join him for his Christmas celebration …... England was suddenly uncomfortable with the story. There were too many parallels. Why did Scrooge's nephew have to be called FRED, of all names. England closed the book and put it down on his bedside table and lay down flat on his bed. He closed his eyes and waited for sweet oblivion to claim him. He soon felt the pull and began to fall deeper until he was in that stage between sleep and awake. He was on the verge of dreamland when …...

"This is little Britain! Get out of the town!"

England's eyes shot open to see a big man with amber eyes and dark hair with two springy curls sticking out of the top and the bottom of either side of his head. He bore a striking resemblance to the Italies and wore a toga. England's eyes widened.

"ROME!"

 **And that the first chapter! Watch out for my explanation of why anything to do with the Revolutionary War makes England ill. I put Rome in as the Ghost of Jacob Marley (both characters being deceased and Rome turning up at night to visit people). Well, any way I hope you enjoy this. Next chapter will be up tomorrow!**

 **Hasta la Pasta!**


	2. A Night Visitor!

**Any one up for chapter 2? Ready, set, go!**

 **I don't own Hetalia or _A Christmas Carol_!**

 _ **Chapter 2:A Night Visitor!**_

"You were so little when I last saw you," the late empire reminisced. "You were so cute! You've grown!" He bent down to look to look at England's eyes. "And so have your eyebrows!"

"Rome, what are you doing here?" England asked before Rome could make any more comments about his facial features. "You died centuries ago!"

"Si, true," Rome replied. "But I'm allowed to come back every now and then to see Italy and Romano. I've even visited Germany. Strange how I've never seen a woman in his bed." Then Rome stared at England's bed. "Hmmm …..."

"But why have you come to see me?" England wanted to distract Rome from the fact that he was sleeping alone. "What are you doing HERE?" Rome looked at England and then his eyes brightened like he had remembered something.

"Oh yes!" he exclaimed. "I'm here for your welfare!"

"By interrupting my sleep!"

"Not your physical welfare, silly boy!" Rome chuckled, ruffling England's hair. England shoved his hand off his head. "I'm here to fix your mindset!"

"There's nothing wrong with my mindset!"

"Then why won't you go to America's birthday party?" England got off the bed and moved away from Rome.

"Why should I go and have his Independence rubbed in my face?" England replied, grumpily. "I had enough when it first happened."

"Come on, Little Britain," Rome said. "You think that's why he's invited you? You were an important figure in his life. Is it so hard to believe he wants you there because he cares about you?"

"If he cared so much," England retorted, hotly. "Why did he go? He went to war with me to leave me behind so why did he do that?"

"Have you ever asked him that question?" Rome asked. "He's the one with the answer to that but I'll say this. Just because he came into conflict with you, it doesn't mean he hated you! You should give him a chance."

"He'll just laugh at me and come out with some joke about it," England huffed. "That wanker can't be serious for a second."

"I don't think you give the boy enough credit," Rome commented. "You should go to his party and talk it out with him. You can't let the Revolutionary War get between the two of you forever." England suddenly began coughing.

"This is why I can't talk to him about it," he said between coughs. "Every time the War's mentioned …... "

"You know that's all in your mind, right," Rome replied.

"It's always been that way!" England retorted. "I was sick immediately after the War."

"Because you caught a fever, sitting in the rain, crying," Rome shot back. "It was the only time you were ever truly sick over this business. But you convinced yourself it was because America won his independence so whenever the Revolutionary War comes up, you cough, have a headache, throw up or all of the above but it's all in your head. You can't spend the rest of your existence like that so take my advice and talk to the boy. Go to his party and find out why he really wants you there!"

Arthur thought about what Rome was telling him. Could he do it? Face up to the past and talk it out with America? Rehash the war? England began coughing again.

"I can't!" he said, adamantly. "I'm sorry, Rome! I can't!"

"So what are these 'plans' you told America that you had?" Rome demanded. "The usual! Go to the local pub and get falling down drunk, having a crisis about what religion you are?"

"What if it is?" England muttered.

"Not this year!" Rome announced. "I was hoping to avoid this but you've left me no choice. You're going to be visited by three spirits. One will be here at one o'clock on the morning of the first of July, the second one at two o'clock on the 2nd and the third one at three o'clock on the third. On your own head be it." Rome then realised that England was laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I get it now," England replied, still grinning and picking up his book. "I fall asleep, reading _A Christmas Carol_ and you show up, like Marley's ghost, telling me I'm going to be visited by three ghosts! This is a dream, isn't it! Of course, it's a dream!"

Rome walked up to England, put his finger and thumb up to one of England's eyebrows, grabbed an eyebrow hair and yanked.

"Owww! What did you do that for, you git?" England rubbed his eyebrow.

"So you'd know that this isn't a dream," Rome replied. "Those ghosts are coming so suck it up! These spirits will resemble, even act like people you know but they are spirits and they'll be there for your own good. So be nice to them."

"Must I?" England groaned.

"You're the one who decided to be a stubborn fool so you can't back out now," Rome said, adamantly as he began to fade. "I can't stay any longer. Now remember, Little Britain! Be nice to the spirits!" Rome faded from sight.

* * *

England shot up from his pillow, gasping for air. His bedroom was dark, no sight of any ghostly visitor (but then, there would not be, would there!). His book was still on the bedside table where he had left it and there was no signs of disturbance anywhere. England blew out a breath. With no evidence to the contrary, England lay back down to sleep, convinced that the whole thing had been a dream.

Despite the fact that his eyebrow was throbbing.

* * *

The next day, the 30th of June, England spent time catching up on paperwork and when he had finished, he decided to go for a walk. Passing the coffee table, he spotted the invitation and plane ticket and his mind turned to the events of the night before. No! Not events! Dream! That's all it was! A dream! He passed the table without a second thought and left the house. He spent a restful hour, strolling through a local park, sitting on one of the benches and relaxing in the sun. Then he went to his favourite tea shop for a cup of Earl Grey and a scone. And, as afternoon gave way to evening, England slowly made his way home. When he entered his living room, the invitation and plane ticket were still on the coffee table. He wanted to throw them away so they would not be haunting him but he could not bring himself to do that. So he did his best to ignore them.

There were several missed messages on his phone which he had left behind, many from France. England knew what those would be about. Always before the 4th of July, France would try to persuade England to attend America's birthday party. An exercise in futility! England ignored the phone and spent the rest of the evening trying to ignore the coffee table until it was time to retire.

* * *

England was already asleep as his clock ticked toward midnight and the 30th of June changed to the 1st of July. The hands continued to crawl round full circle until, finally, it completed the hour and struck 1 o'clock.

England's sleep was disrupted by the sensation of someone climbing on his bed as the mattress dipped beneath the person's weight. England was further awaken by a certain, annoying French laugh.

"Hon hon hon! Time to wake up, Angleterre!"

 **No need to tell you who just showed up! It's my head cannon that England fell sick when America left him in the rain and he associated that with the the Revolutionary War and now anything to do with the war causes England to fall ill but it's all psychosomatic. Look out for the next chapter tomorrow when England takes a trip down Memory Lane.**

 **Hasta la Pasta!**


	3. Journey To The Past

**And on to Chapter 3. England faces his past and learns a few things he didn't know. Enjoy!**

 **I don't own Hetalia or _A Christmas Carol!_**

 _ **Chapter 3:Journey To The Past**_

England drowsily opened his eyes to find the blonde, blue-eyed, stubby-chinned, impeccably dressed Frenchman straddling him on the bed with his hands on either side of England's head, staring down at him with a perverted expression. England screamed, pushed France off him and the bed and immediately jump out of the other side of it. You did not stay in bed with France in the room. Anything could happen!

"What the bloody hell are you doing in my room, Frog?" he demanded. "Or in my house, for that matter?"

"Oh, Angleterre!" France replied, getting up off the floor and producing a rose from, seemingly out of thin air. "Don't you remember what Rome told you? I might look like France, I may even act like France but I am Spirit Past." England snorted.

"That was a dream!" he declared. "And so is this!"

"Do you want ME to pluck your eyebrows to prove that it isn't?" Spirit Past asked, standing up and coming toward England, raising his hand toward England's face. England held up his hands to ward him off.

"No, no!" he replied, nervously. "That won't be necessary. But what do you want with me?"

"Mon chèr, I'm here to show you your past with Amerique," the spirit announced.

"I don't need to see that!" England huffed. "I already know all about it."

"But do you know Amerique's side of the story?"

"What's to know?" England looked at the ghost in anger. "I loved that boy! I did everything I could to help and protect him. And he turned his back and then returned to fight me!" Spirit Past sighed.

"Oh, Angleterre!" he said. "You know so much yet know so little." And he waved the flower under England's nose. The floral scent overwhelmed England's senses for a moment and when he recovered, his bedroom had disappeared and had been replaced with a meadow. A little boy's blonde head poked up, just above the long grass and England realised that it was America when he first found him.

"That's America as a child!" England exclaimed and waved his hand at the little boy. "America!"

"He can't see you, mon chèr," Spirit Past told him. "Or hear you. These are just shadows of the past. But Little Amerique is an adorable little garçon _(boy)_ , isn't he?" Then England heard someone else walked through the grass and turned to see himself as he was in the 1600s. He watched as his past self walked up to Little America and smiled at the little boy, holding a little rabbit.

"I'm really busy but I got up early so I could see you again," Past England told the little boy he had found the day before with France and Finland. "Wasn't that nice of me!"

"I'm so happy!" Little America looked up at Past England with a face you just could not say no to. "Hi there!" Past England stopped in confusion. He had expected the little boy to run away from him or act all timid, not just accept a total stranger, almost immediately. He would have to teach the boy about stranger danger.

"What?" he exclaimed. "You're not scared. I thought you'd run!" Little America shook his little head.

"No," he replied. "I'm okay! Lately I've been figuring out a lot about who I am." And Little America had. He found he could feel the people around him in this land. The many cultures that they had brought with them from their former homelands. Their trials and tribulations in the New World, their achievements and failures as they forged new colonies. And now he was learning about others like himself. They came with the people. Little America steered clear of Netherlands, he scared him. Sweden scared him too but he was always with that nice one, Finland, so maybe he was not too bad. Now there were two others, the ones called France and England but they always seemed to be fighting. Why were they always fighting?

"That's great." England commented. "I'm quite happy to see you too." The adult country and the chibi nation looked at each other. Little America smiled up at Past England and England fell under the cute little nation's spell.

"Well, that just settles it for me," England announced. "From this day forth, you'll be my brother!" Little America grinned and nodded.

"Then I guess I'll call you Big Brother!" he giggled. A startled expression took over England's face and, for a moment, he was lost in thought. Not pleasant ones by the look on his face. And then he looked back at Little America.

"Well now," he said. "Don't be so formal! About you call me England!" Little America looked confused.

"Okay," he replied, uncertainly. Little America and Past England faded, leaving Present England and Spirit Past in the meadow.

"Why did you not want Amerique to call you Big Brother?" Spirit Past asked. England turned away from the spirit.

"I remembered how my big brothers used to bullying and harass me," England admitted. "When America said he would call me Big Brother, it brought all that to mind. I didn't want to do that to America."

"Oh, Angleterre!" the spirit replied. "Just because your brothers treated you that way doesn't mean you would treat Amerique like that. Poor Little Amerique probably wondered why you didn't want to be called Big Brother. He may have thought that you didn't like him as much as he thought you did."

England wondered if maybe the spirit had a point. Perhaps, the next time he saw America, he might explain to him why he did not want America to call him Big Brother.

Spirit Past waved the rose under England's nose again and, once again, the scent overwhelmed him.

* * *

When England's senses cleared again, he found himself in another field but this time there were no tall grasses. What grass there was had been trampled into the mud, created by the rain that fell in torrents on to the bodies dressed in red and blue uniforms that littered the ground. Among the bodies stood a troop of soldiers in blue, watching as a man in a red uniform and a teenager in a blue one faced off and pointed muskets at each other.

"England!" Teen America yelled. "I'm not your little brother any more. All I want is my freedom!" Present England turned away.

"I don't want to see this again!" he cried as he began to cough and his head began to hurt but Spirit Past forced him to turn around.

"Désolé," the spirit replied. "But you must!"

Past England stared back at his defiant, rebellious colony. The boy was too young to realise what he was doing. He would fail without England to guild him. Sure, America had great strength but he lacked experience. In Nation terms, he was still little more than a baby. No! England would bring America back under his control if he had to do it by force. After all, it was for the boy's own good.

"I won't allow it!" he shouted in reply, his face tightening with resolve as he charged toward America with his musket pointing toward the rebel colony. America brought his own musket up to block the point of the bayonet on the end. England twisted his own gun and America's musket flew out of his hands and landed in the mud, a gash now marring the wooden stock. England then aimed his musket at America's head. The troop of American soldiers brought their guns up and aimed them at England.

One shot! That's all it would take! America would die but he would resurrect and it would mean this war would be over and England would be the victor, with America remaining in his guardianship. England's finger began to squeeze the trigger …...

But would not go any further. England could not make his finger pulled the trigger all the way back. His hands began to shake as he lost the resolve to fire. England dropped his musket and then fell to his knees beside it. He put his face in his hands and began to cry.

"I can't do it," he wept. "Why can't I shoot?" The teenager nation looked down at his former caretaker as he sobbed in the mud. America did not know why England refused to be called Big Brother by him, he thought that maybe England had not like him enough for that but now he knew that was not the case. If England had not loved him like a brother, he would have been able to shoot.

"You know why," he said. A memory from when he was a child flashed through his mind. England, holding out his hand to his child colony and saying, "Let's go home" and America putting his little hand in England's larger one. America looked down at his hand. Not so little any more!

"You used to be so big," he commented as he began to feel the transition from colony to country, the responsibility for the land leaving England and settling on America's shoulders, the former thirteen British colonies becoming the first thirteen American states and galvanising into one American nation. America took one last look at his former big brother and then walked away. He was finally a country of his own but his heart was heavy. He had not wanted it this way, to fight England for his right to stand on his own two feet but things had gone so wrong and went down hill so fast until he had no choice but to fight the one person he loved most in the world. There would be celebrations at the birth of a new nation but America was not in the mood. He just wanted to be alone!

"Sir!" one of the soldiers stopped him. "What about …...?" He pointed to the British Nation, still sat in the mud.

"Leave him be!" America ordered. "He's lost more than you could ever imagine." And he walked away, the troops following him.

"We all have!"

* * *

Present England was also sat in the mud, like his past self, holding his head, which was hurting so much, he felt like he was going to be sick and tears crawled down his face. Why had he had to watch that again? Why was he being put through this torture? Spirit Past bent down and lifted England from the ground. England stood up and shook him off.

"Leave me alone!" he snapped. "Just stop this, right now!"

"Désolé, Angleterre," the spirit replied. "But there's one more thing to show you."

"You've shown me too much already," England retorted but the rose was back under his nose again.

When he recovered, he found himself in the house he had built for America when he first found him. America was sat in the corner of his old bedroom, still in his uniform and clutching something in his hand, tears crawling down his face. The sounds of celebration echoed outside but America was deaf to them. Yes, he had won but he had also lost.

"Amerique!" France's voice called from somewhere in the house and then there was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Are you in here, Amerique?" The door opened and Past France, wearing a French uniform, pushed the door open. He looked around and spotted America huddled in the corner.

"I expected you to out with your people," France commented. "What are you doing in here? And are you crying?" America rubbed his eyes on his sleeve.

"Heroes don't cry!" he replied, standing up.

"Ah! Amerique!" France sighed. "Big Brother France understands, you know! Angleterre was the one who raised you, looked after you. It was hard to fight and defeat him but he did give you reasons. All those taxes and the oppressive laws …."

"That was his bosses!" America replied. "I understand that but why wouldn't he let me go? I just wanted to become my own nation so I could stand side by side with him as his equal but I ended up standing against him as his enemy. How did that happen? He'll hate me now."

"Angleterre loved you," France said, sagely. "Probably still does but he won't show it now. Because he loved you, he wanted to hold on to you, after all, you were his little boy. He was blind to the fact that you had grown up. He didn't want to let you go!" America looked down at his hand and opened it. In his hand was a wooden soldier in a red coat, one of the ones England had made for him when he was a child. Each one had been different and this one had prominent eyebrows.

"He'll never forgive me," America said, sadly. "Never!" France smiled.

"Never is a long time, mon chèr," he replied. "Even for a nation. Give it time!"

And the two figures faded away.

* * *

Present England continued to stare at the space where France and America had been. England did not know what America had done after he had won his Independence but lamenting having to fight his Big Brother had never crossed his mind.

"I never realised …... "

"What did you think Amerique did after the war, Angleterre?" Spirit Past asked. "Went out and partied! Did you think about how difficult it was for him to stand against you? It was as hard on him as it was on you, mon chèr. He suffered just as much!" England had to admit that he never considered how difficult it was for America. He just thought the boy had grown to hate him. It seemed like he had for a while and maybe he did. England had given him reason to.

"What are you going to do now, mon chèr?" Spirit Past asked.

"I don't know," England replied.

"You should go to Amerique's party," the spirit advised. A headache blossomed between England's eyes. He shook his head.

"I'm not ready," he replied. The spirit sighed.

"Stubborn, foolish, Angleterre!" and he waved the rose under England's nose one more time.

* * *

England opened his eyes to find himself back in bed and he looked around his room. There was no Spirit Past waiting to whisk him off somewhere else and he became aware of wetness on his cheeks and he wiped away the tears he had cried in his sleep. Another dream! This 4th of July business was playing with his mind, he was bound to have a few dreams about it. He settled back down and closed his eyes again, thinking he must have left a window open somewhere because he could smell the roses in the garden.

* * *

England spent the day gardening, reading and cooking (badly, of course), trying to put the whole business out of his mind. He received more phone messages from France and they were joined by some from Canada. After remembering who he was, England almost called Canada back. He found his number in his contacts list and his thumb hovered over the call button. He knew what Canada wanted but England did not want to go into all that. Instead, remembering what the 1st was to Canada, he texted him Happy Canada Day and sent that instead. Then he put his phone down and ignored it for the rest of the day.

* * *

The house was silent as the clock ticked away toward two o'clock on the 2nd. It was the only sound in England's bedroom, that and England's light snores. Then the minute hand ticked on to the two.

England was rudely awaken by something landing on his stomach. After he got over the shock, he looked to find a polar bear cub sat on top of him.

"I'm hungry," the bear said as England stared at him. "Gimme food!" Then the bear was picked up by a young man who bore a resemblance to America but had longer hair with a stray curling strand and violet eyes, dressed in a red hoodie with a white maple leaf symbol and jeans.

"Hello, England," the young man said with a Canadian accent. England frowned.

"Who are you?"

 **Just for the Canadian readers out there. HAPPY CANADA DAY! Have a great day! Well, England's still digging his heels in so let's see if the next ghost can do any better. I tried to imagine how America might have felt about fighting England as individuals rather than countries and figured America would be conflicted about fighting the man who raised him and would want to repair their relationship as soon as possible but you know how stubborn England can be!**

 **Let's see how long he can hold out!**

 **Hasta la Pasta!**


	4. In the Now!

**And now for chapter 4. And Canada is hard to ignore in this! Enjoy!**

 **I don't own Hetalia or _A Christmas Carol!_**

 _ **Chapter 4:In The Now!**_

The young man in the hoodie frowned at England.

"Are you asking that because you know I'm not really who I look like?" he asked. "Or are you asking because you don't remember Canada like usual, eh?" England blushed.

"Do try to remember Canada!" the spirit advised. "He gets so hurt when no one remembers!"

"So you resemble Canada," England replied. "But who are you really?" the Canadian lookalike gave a soft smile.

"I'm Spirit Present," he said. "And I'm here to …..."

"Gimme food!" the polar bear cub demanded. "Feed me!" Spirit Present sighed.

"Do you have food for him?" he asked. "Otherwise, he'll be like this all through our little tour. England got out of bed, put his feet into his slippers and put his dressing gown on over his pyjamas. Then he took them down into the kitchen.

After satisfying the bear's hunger, England turned back to Spirit Present

"You mentioned a tour," he said. "Where are you taking me?"

"To America's birthday party," Spirit Present replied, producing a hockey stick and slapping England with it.

* * *

England landed on his back, reeling from the blow and needed a moment to recover. When he opened his eyes, it was day and red, white and blue bunting hung everywhere. People were milling about and the smell of barbecues drifted on the breeze. He appeared to be on the main street of some town and, judging by the architecture and the accents of the people around him, it was somewhere in America.

England felt somewhat self-conscious of standing in the middle of the street in his dressing gown but no one seemed to notice. The sound of a brass band in the distance got louder and and louder and England realised that a parade was coming down the street toward him.

He raced out of the road and bent over a litter bin, retching when a migraine blind-sided him as he realised that he had landed right in the middle of a massive 4th of July celebration.

Spirit Present came to his side, followed by the polar bear and patted him on his back as he dry-heaved over the trash in the bin.

"Feeling better, eh?" he asked. England just looked up and glared at the Canada lookalike who was still carrying the hockey stick he had whacked England with.

"Did you have to do that?" he snapped as the headache ebbed, though not by much.

"I'm afraid so," the spirit replied. "Sorry!"

"You could have warned me I was going to be in the middle of a crowd so I could get dressed," England groused. "This is embarrassing!"

"Don't worry, eh!" the spirit reassured him. "Like with the past, no one can see you or hear you so your dignity's intact."

"Where are we, any way?"

"Outskirts of Philadelphia," the spirit replied. "This is where America always celebrates his birthday. He has a house, not far from here."

That made sense to England. This was where the Declaration of Independence was signed, essentially where the birth of America as a country began. England's head began to throb again.

"Come on!" the spirit began to pull England along with him.

"Where are we going now?"

"America's house!"

"We're walking there?"

"No,"

SLAP!

* * *

When England recovered from another close encounter with the hockey stick, they were outside America's house. America's Philadelphia home was a beautiful colonial house with a pilloried front and painted pale blue and white. The grounds were neat and surrounded by a white picket fence which was decorated with red, white and blue bunting. Music and the sounds of people generally having a good time came from behind the house as well as the smell of a barbecue.

England and Spirit Present made their way around the house to the large backyard to find nations milling around, chatting and enjoying themselves in stark contrast to how they were during a World Meeting. The Nordics were stood together talking, with the exception of Denmark who had wandered over to the beer table, followed by Sealand, trying to get Denmark to get him a beer, only to be pulled back by Sweden with a stern glare.

"N' beer," he said, adamantly. "Yer too young!" Sealand pouted.

"Come on!" said Finland. "Let's get you some soda instead." Sealand pouted even harder but trudged along behind Finland.

Finding out that America had supplied wurst among the meat for the barbarque, the cooking had been commandeered by Germany and Prussia while Italy went in search of pasta. France was flirting with everybody in sight. Switzerland was sat with Liechtenstein and looked ready to shoot anyone that invaded their personal space. Hungary and Japan wandered around with their cameras, looking for yaoi photo opportunities, followed by a long-suffering Austria.

Poland dragged Lithuania over to the backyard fence where America had a paddock with horses and, to Poland's delight, a couple of ponies. America had even invited 'the commie' for 'diplomatic reasons' and Russia and his sisters were standing around, Ukraine trying to make friends, Russia also trying to make friends and Belarus scaring them all away. The other two Baltics were on the table furthest away from Russia that they could find.

America was stood by the back fence, looking over the paddock, a little way down from Poland and Lithuania, a pensive look on his face. Someone appeared be his side and America turned to see Canada. The real one.

"Do ya think he'll come this time, bro?" America asked. Canada shrugged.

"I tried to call him," he replied. "He didn't answer. Just sent a text wishing me a Happy Canada Day. Maybe he'll come later, eh?" America shook his head.

"He's never wished me a Happy 4th of July," America muttered. "He's not coming, is he?" Canada wanted to reassure his brother but it didn't look likely.

"Maybe he'll come next year," he ventured. "You can always try again?"

"I've been trying for over two hundred years," America shook his head. "I want England to come to my birthday party but if he's not here for the fireworks, I'll give up. I won't try again."

"You talking about Jerk England!" Sealand's voice pulled them round to find the micronation standing behind them.

"You shouldn't listen in on other people's conversations, eh," Canada admonished but Sealand just continued on.

"He doesn't visit me, either," he said. "He just ignores my existence." Spirit Present turned to England, questionably. England looked ashamed.

"He was like America as a child when I first saw Sealand," he explained. "He even has blue eyes like America. I saw him and just saw him growing up and leaving me like America did. I couldn't face that again and I avoided contact so I wouldn't get attached to him."

"You didn't want your heart broken again!" It was a statement, not a question. England just looked down.

"It might not have turned out the same way with Sealand," the spirit pointed out.

"I was afraid to take the chance," England admitted.

"You need to take a chance soon," Spirit Present replied. "You heard America! Your window of opportunity to make things right is closing."

"I think it's already too late," England said, shaking his head. "He's already giving up on me."

"It's not too late! Come with me!"

* * *

Spirit Present lead England to a door in the house and opened it. He pushed the door opened and stepped back to allow England to go in.

England went into the room and found it was full of storage. Bits and pieces from the last two and more centuries littered the room. The spirit followed him in and his bear began exploring into the little nooks and crannies.

"See anything you recognise, eh?" he asked and steered England over to a corner. "What about those?" Stood on a shelf was a large ornate box that England remembered making. Inside were the wooden redcoat soldiers that he had painted to be all different. England had almost broken his hand putting it together.

"I made these for America when he was a child," he said, holding one of the soldiers. Spirit Present smiled.

"And he still kept them," he replied and then he pointed to a pile of clothes. "What about that?"

England went over to the clothes and picked them up. It was the suit that England had bought America to 'stop him dressing like a pauper'. America thought the suit was uncomfortable and would keep it for special occasions. It was unwearable now but it was still here.

"I gave America this suit but he didn't like it," England laid the suit back down.

"But he still hasn't thrown it out!" England turned to look at Spirit Present and went still when he spotted something in the corner. He moved over to it and saw it was a musket. With a gouge in the wooden stock. He reach out and traced the mark with his finger.

"This was the musket he aimed at me," he whispered. "The one I knocked out of his hands. Why did he keep this?"

"You'll have to ask America that," the spirit replied. "Everything to do with you, America kept! Good and bad. Are you so sure it's too late for you and America, eh?" England looked down on his feet.

"Any way," the spirit said. "I'm sorry, England!" England looked up.

"Eh?" he asked. "Why?"

And he was kissed by the hockey stick again.

* * *

England shot awake with an aching face. He was getting really fed up with these dreams interrupting his sleep, night after night. He rubbed his face where it hurt and decided that he must have banged it on the bed post or something.

* * *

And that was the excuse he used to explain the beauty of a black eye that greeted him in the bathroom mirror the next morning. After he showered and changed, he went down into the kitchen, made breakfast and ate it while holding an ice-pack to his eye to reduce the swelling. Just as he was finishing his Earl Grey, his phone rang. He put down his tea and picked up his phone, checking the caller id and saw that it was Prussia. Why was the former nation calling him? He pressed answer.

"What do you want, Prussia?" he asked.

"Hey, Eyebrows!" Prussia's Germanic accent drifted through the ear speaker. "Why haven't you been answering Birdie's calls. You think you're too good to talk to him? Not even I'm that awesome."

England was not really up to dealing with Canada's boyfriend right now. Prussia was a full of himself, pain in the arse at the best of times. And, right now was not the best of times for England.

"I know what he wants to talk about, Prussia," England replied. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"Just suck it up, England!" Prussia said. "Stop living in the past and get over it already. Start thinking about the future!"

"That's rich coming from someone who still calls himself Prussia, EAST GERMANY!" England retorted.

"Just pull that stick out of your ass," Prussia ordered. "And go to America's party!"

"Goodbye, Prussia!" England said and ended the call. He picked up his teacup and took a sip.

Great! His tea was cold now!

* * *

England found it harder to sleep so he took a couple of sleeping pills and finally drifted off. It was now the third and the clock ticked on.

2:56am. 2:57am. 2:58am. 2:59am. 3...

"Kesesesesese! Time to face the future, Eyebrows!" England's eyes fluttered open.

"Oh, bloody hell!"

 **I thought Canada would be good as one of the ghosts as he's practically like a ghost to everyone anyway and I chose Spirit Present because, as America's brother, he's very much of the now. Who I chose as the future ghost might be a strange choice (as he's an abolished country) but, the way I see it, he's still around for a reason. (another reason is he's awesome!) XD**

 **To the Guest reviewer, feel free! ;P**

 **So till tomorrow,**

 **Hasta la Pasta!**


	5. Future Imperfect!

**Time for the scary chapter. Everyone ready for the future! Here we go!**

 **I don't own Hetalia or _A Christmas Carol!_**

 _ **Chapter 5:Future Imperfect!**_

England had hoped that the sleeping pills he had taken would stop any weird dreams from happening. 'Some bloody hope!' he thought as he looked up at the white haired, crimson eyed, self-proclaimed King of Awesomeness. Prussia was dressed simply in a white t-shirt and jeans, wearing his iron cross necklace and smirking down at him.

"Ready to see the shape of things to come?" England groaned.

"Can't I have one night of uninterrupted sleep?" he complained.

"You're the one who decided to be an Arschlock so, nein, you can't," the Prussian lookalike replied. "I am the Awesome Spirit Future and I'm here to show you what's going to happen if you go on being so unawesome. But first. Have you got any beer?"

England moaned.

* * *

After being given some beer, Spirit Future poured it into a glass and took a sip.

"Ahhhh!" he sighed. "It's not German beer but it'll do!"

"I'm so glad," England drawled, sarcastically. "Just how bad can the future be if I don't go to America's party?"

"Really want to know?"

"Not especially," England replied. "But I know you're not going to leave me alone until you tell me so let's get it over with!"

"Okay!" the spirit replied. "You asked for it!"

And he hit England on the head with the beer glass.

* * *

"Owwwww!" England rubbed the top of his head with his eyes scrunched up in pain. "First Spirit Present, now you! What is this, a conspiracy?" And he opened his eyes.

An apocalyptic scene met his gaze. Buildings that were mere shells jutted from the ground, windows blown out, most buildings, half destroyed. No sign of life could be seen in the wrecked ghost town and the whole place felt ….. dead.

England felt like he should recognise the place, that he had been here before but it was too damaged to put a name to. He turned to Spirit Future.

"Where are we?" he asked in shock.

"Philadelphia," the spirit replied. Startled, England turned and looked all around himself. This was the place Spirit Present brought him to! Where America always had his birthday party!

"What happened?" he gasped. Spirit Future sighed, sadly.

"The totally unawesome World War III," he replied. "You wouldn't know it but today is the 4th of July. America always celebrated it here but right now he's on an aircraft carrier, fighting on his birthday. Not an awesome way to spend it!"

"World War III! How did that start?"

"The usual," the spirit said, in a tone that said that he thought 'the usual' was just plain stupid. "Territorial disputes, invasion of land, another cold war stand-off. But America's enemies became bolder after the collapse of the 'Special Relationship' and eventually, everything came to a head and exploded."

"What do you mean 'the collapse of the Special Relationship'" England asked.

"You didn't go to his birthday party," Spirit Future replied with an accusing tone. "America gave up and the relationship between the landmasses themselves was affected. Relations soured and, eventually, the two governments stopped talking to each other. It weakened the position of both countries and others decided to make a move."

"Russia?" England thought about the tensions that had sprung up recently between Russia and America.

"Among others," the spirit said. "America had a lot of enemies. The really sad part was that those who were not involved suffered too. I think you should see this!"

"You're not going to hit me with the beer again, are you?"

"Nein!" the spirit laughed. "I just did that because you were being an Arschlock!" And he put his hand on England's shoulder.

* * *

England found himself in another place. The buildings nearby were intact but the land and trees around him were brown and sickly looking. Around England stood tombstones and he realised he was stand in a graveyard. He could hear footsteps behind him and he turned to see Sweden and Finland walking up the path between the tombstones. Finland was carrying a bunch of flowers that did not look too healthy. Both countries look pale and sick!

"Sweden!" he called. "Finland!" Neither nation responded.

"They can't hear or see you, Eyebrows," Spirit Future told him.

"Why do they look so ill?" England asked. The albino spirit sighed.

"Well, the Nordics remained neutral in the conflict," he replied. "But the radiation from other countries drifted into their territories so they were affected. Their people are sick so they're sick." England looked back at the two Nordics. It was so wrong that they should suffer in a war they wanted no part of.

"What are they doing here?"

"You should follow them and find out," Spirit Future said and began to follow Sweden and Finland. England followed suit and, after a minute of walking, Sweden and Finland stopped in front of a tombstone that looked new. Finland knelt down and placed the flowers by the tombstone.

"Sorry we haven't been by for a while, Peter," Finland said. "Things have been chaotic since the war got worse. People are sick and the economy is failing. This is the first free time we've had in a while." England frowned, not recognising the human name for a moment. _Peter?_

"S'rry, Se'land," Sweden muttered, putting his hand on the tombstone as a tear crawled down Finland's face. England almost hit the ground in shock. _Sealand!_ He walked round to look at the name on the stone.

 _Here lies Sealand_

 _Beloved son_

"What happened?" England blurted. How could Sealand be dead? He was a platform out at sea, he should have been safer than anybody on land. But the tombstone stood as a symbol of the destruction of that myth. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes at the thought of the micronation no longer being around. Sure he could be a brat and a whiny one at that sometimes but the thought of his death wounded England to the heart.

"Sealand was one of the first casualties of the war," Spirit Future replied. "What's really unawesome about it was it was a mistake. A missile failed, fell into the sea and exploded, creating a tremor that caused the sea-floor under Sealand to crumble. What didn't collapse into the sea was swept away by the resulting tsunami that also devastated the south-east coast of you. Sealand himself collapsed into a coma and, after a few days, finally past away. Totally unawesome, especially for Sweden and Finland."

England turned back to Finland who was sat on the ground, still talking to the stone as if it could hear him. Sweden sat down beside his 'wife' as Finland related all the latest news of what was happening in the world.

"America is holding out but he and his landmass are taking a beating," he told the stone. "Everyone thought England would come out of his second Splendid Isolation and help but he's still out of contact with everyone. Even Canada tried to talk to him but England ignores him too. Ever since things broke down with America, England's become what Japan would call a shut-in. He doesn't talk to anyone unless he has to."

England did not understand what was going on! Why was he not helping? He would never let America face a World War alone! Where was he during all this grief and destruction, while his family and friends faced devastation that was probably surpassing WWII? A higher death count than 68-72 million did not bear thinking about.

"I can't believe I'm not doing something about this," England turned to Spirit Future. "Surely, I must contributing somehow?" The spirit put his hand on England's shoulder.

"Let's find out, shall we!"

* * *

England could not believe what he was seeing!

His house was in darkness and not because it was deserted. England could see his future self, sitting in his favourite chair, sipping whiskey as if the world was not falling into an apocalypse. He seemed completely unconcerned about the state of affairs beyond the boundaries of his own landmass. It was not the usual _I care but I don't want to show it!_ This version of him genuinely did not care about the people who were once important to him. He was an empty, unfeeling shell.

Suddenly the door burst open and France stormed in. He was impeccably dressed as always but he was thinner with dark shadows under his eyes and his hair was scraggly due to thinness, caused by the radiation drifting over his landmass. France wanted to help Amerique but his government had opted out of getting involved in the war, which seemed to France to be a futile exercise as he was still being affected by the results.

"What are you doing here, Frog?"

"Angleterre! Please! You have to help Amerique!" the French nation plead. "His allies have been pounded into almost non-existence, he's standing practically alone now. Many of his people are dead and his land is devastated. It's only a matter to time before he falls!" Future England snorted.

"Oh, what's the matter?" he sneered. "Did the World's Greatest Superpower get in over his head?"

"Even the greatest of us needs allies, Angleterre," France replied. "Especially in a World War. You should know that. You would have fallen in WWII if it hadn't been for Amerique, even if you won't admit it. Don't you think it's time to return the favour?"

"To a brat who hasn't said a word to me outside of World Meetings for years!" Future England retorted. "Besides, if you're so worried, why don't you help him?"

"If my boss would agree to, I would be at Amerique's side right now," France snapped. "In or out of the war, my land and people are still affected. Yours too or, are you forgetting about that missile causing that tsunami that devastated your coast line and killed Sealand? How many of your people died in that disaster? And I know that you did care about that boy, no matter how much you try to cover it up. And the radiation is affecting your land, as well. If you can't fight at Amerique's side than at least fight alongside Japan or Germany."

"Germany's fighting!" England turned to Spirit Future. Germany had stayed out of wars since WWII. Spirit Future nodded.

"Germany would have stayed out of it," he replied. "But Russia had a long memory about the last world war and a strong grudge. He attacked Germany and Germany allied with America in retaliation. Japan, being America's friend, awesomely backed him up and Italy wanted to stick with Germany like always but he's not much of a fighter and his boss declared neutrality so Germany made him stay home."

Future England just put down his whiskey and glared at France.

"Sealand was no longer my concern, he was Sweden and Finland's," he replied, coldly. "The missile was a malfunction, not deliberate. Now, are you finished because I have things to do and they do not included fretting over things that have nothing to do with me!" France was going to argue but there was a look in England's eye, a look that, a few years ago, never would have been there.

"Your heart has turned to stone, mon ami," France said, sadly. "If it hasn't crumbled already."

"Goodbye, Frog!" England picked up his glass, took a sip and turned away from France. France gave England one last look before leaving the house to grieve the loss of his petit lapin. England just sipped his drink.

"How can you just sit there?" Present England screamed at his future self. "Friends are suffering, people are dying, FAMILY'S DYING and you're sitting there as if it means nothing. How on earth do I turn into a heartless wanker like you?" Future England paid no attention.

"When you didn't go to America's awesome birthday party," Spirit Future replied. "You thought he would just forget about it and go on as normal but you underestimated what it would mean to him. He wanted his Big Brother back and if you went to his party, it would mean you'd put the whole Revolutionary War crap behind you and the two of you could finally be brothers again. When you didn't show, America gave up on you and everything went to hell quickly and here we are! WWIII!"

"All because we weren't getting along?" England demanded. "We could have become brothers again and the war still could have happened."

"True," the spirit conceded. "Or with the Special Relationship still in place, America's enemies might have thought twice about it, there's no way to know but at least you wouldn't have been this unawesome, care-for-nobody Arschlock sitting before us!" England looked back at his future self who was sat calmly, sipping from his glass as if the entire world wasn't falling apart.

"There has to be a way to prevent this," he said. Spirit Future put his hand on his shoulder.

"That's up to you," he told him. "Come on! One more thing to see." And the house disappeared around them.

* * *

In it's place was the deck of an aircraft carrier with pilots and ground crew running here and there, preparing the fighter jets for combat as the word of an incoming attack was passed from crewman to crewman and everyone jumped to do their jobs, terrified but still doing their duty. Everyone of them a hero. Another hero stood on the deck, holding something in his hand. America had shadows under his eyes and he had lost weight. He still stood tall and proud but it was evident that the war had taken its toll. It was his birthday today and he would spend it preparing to defend his ship, his crew mates and his people. America stood, looking out at sea as someone who bore a resemblance to him, came to his side.

"No word from England, eh?" Canada asked. When the war first start, he was mistaken for America and he was attacked so he joined his brother and America and Canada fought side by side.

"Nah!" America replied, still staring at the ocean toward the mixture of American and Canadian war vessels. "But I wasn't expecting to hear anything from him, anyway. He would have come already if he was gonna help. Oh well, screw him!"

"Sir!" someone shouted. "Incoming missiles! ETA, ten minutes." Canada put his hand on America's shoulder and then ran off to his station. America looked down at his hand and opened it. In his palm lay a wooden soldier with a redcoat and big eyebrows. He gripped it tightly in his hand and closed his eyes.

"I just wanted us to stand side by side as brothers and equals," he said. "But I guess you really don't care any more,". Then he opened his eyes, drew back his arm and threw the little wooden soldier into the sea. It hit the water and disappeared for a moment before popping back up and floating on the surface. England held out his hand to America as he ran past him and Spirit Future to take up his post. England's hand landed on America's shoulder and passed right through.

"I do care, America!" he shouted after America's retreating form. But America gave no sign of hearing him.

"Perhaps you should be the awesome one and show it," Spirit Future replied. "You know what to do. It's all up to you now, Eyebrows. Be awesome for a change." And Spirit Future disappeared. England panicked at the sudden desertion as he watched white trails on the horizon as the missiles screamed across the sky and the activity on the carrier became more frenzied and fighters launched to intercept the threat, America in the lead plane. Each plane moved to tackle each missile and the first wave was blown out of the sky. England watched as explosions littered the air. But a second wave was moving in and there were more missiles in this one. America and his fellow pilots tried their best but this time some made it through and as the surviving missiles rained down, crewmen screamed.

And England screamed with them.

 **Sorry to be so doom and gloom in this chapter but England has to fear the future to want to avoid it. Sealand, as you'll have guessed, is my Tiny Tim character (who else!) and, now that I think about it, Prussia isn't a bad choice for Spirit Future because he came to an end as a country and the world is practically coming to an end in this chapter so, in a way that makes sense. Tomorrow, England makes a decision about America and his birthday.**

 **Till the 4th of July (AKA Tomorrow),**

 **Hasta la Pasta!**


	6. Happy 4th of July!

**HAPPY 4TH OF JULY, AMERICA! XDDD To Alfred, the country and all the America readers out there. Have a great day! And now for the last chapter! Enjoy!**

 **I do not own Hetalia!**

 _ **Chapter 6:Happy 4th of July**_

England was still screaming when he opened his eyes and realised he was back in his room. He stopped and gasped for breath as he calmed down. Early morning sunlight was streaming through his bedroom window and he saw, by the clock, that it was six-thirty in the morning.

"That was the worse dream yet," he muttered to himself but was it a dream? England could not shake the feeling that it was more than that. Had he really been visited by spirits or was it his sub-conscious, conflicted and using the context of _A Christmas Carol_ to work it all out? If the first, dare he take the chance and just disregard it? The second, he was sub-consciously in two minds about America's independence and his birthday was the catalyst. If it was real, he had to prevent it. If it was in his head, he had to resolve it which lead to only one conclusion as he ignored the ache that was beginning in his head.

One way or another, he was going to America's birthday party.

* * *

England showered, changed and threw a change of clothes and toiletries into a carry-on bag. He grabbed his passport and collected the invitation and plane ticket from his coffee table. Then, on a whim, he grabbed his portable sewing kit and some red, white and blue material but removed the scissors. He would never be allow on the plane with them any way so he cut the material into strips and squares so he would not need to take them.

He grabbed his wallet and put it and the sewing kit in the carry-on and picked up his car keys. He grabbed the carry on and left the house, locking it behind him. He threw his bag into his mini cooper and got in. After fastening his seat-belt, he started the car and pulled out of his driveway, turning on to the road and beginning his journey to the airport. He had left in plenty of time and he should arrive three hours before his plane departed.

Plenty of time!

* * *

Bloody traffic!

England had been stuck in his car for an hour and the traffic had not moved as, up ahead, there had been an accident that had closed the road. Fortunately, no one had been killed and injuries had been moderate and non-life threatening but the accident had backed the traffic up and, even though a couple of lanes had been opened, clearing the traffic back-log was going slowly.

It was another thirty minutes before England got through the lanes and after that, he put his foot down because he was cutting it fine to make the check-in but he kept just within the speed limit. The last thing he wanted was to be delayed further by being pulled over by the traffic police. He cursed the cars ahead of him as they seemed to get in his way and went way slower. Come on, come on! He would never make check-in at this rate if everybody did not GET OUT OF HIS WAY!

He raced into the airport car park and found a space for his mini as quick as possible. Once he paid for parking, he grabbed his bag, locked his car and ran for check-in. The check-in desk for the five-thirty flight to Philadelphia was empty and England hoped that was not a bad sign as he ran up to check in and addressed the woman behind the desk.

"Please tell me I haven't missed check-in!" he begged. The woman frowned at him and England's heart sank at the sight.

"Just in time, sir," she replied and grinned. England resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Great! A comedian!

"Any luggage, sir," she asked. England shook his head.

"Last minute decision," he replied. "I wasn't sure if I would be going and didn't have time to pack." The check-in clerk took his plane ticket and passport and examined them. Then she returned the documents with his seat allocation and boarding pass and he moved on to Passport Control. After Passport Control and the security scanners, England went to the departure lounge and sat in a seat with a view of the screens. AA Flight 626 to Philadelphia was currently on time and he relaxed into one of the seats to wait for the announcement for passengers to go to the departure gate. He pulled out the sewing kit and material and began sewing while he waited. Then at four-thirty ….

"Passengers for AA Flight 626, this flight has been delayed," came the announcement on the PA. "This is due to a technical problem. Please wait for further announcements!" England hoped it would not be too long a delay.

* * *

After an hour, England still had not heard any further announcements about his flight and he went to the Information Desk which was crowded with other fellow passengers wanting to know what was happening. The information clerk could only say that the problem was on-going. Many of the other passengers were American and unhappy at the turn of events, just as England was.

"Just how long is this gonna take?" a man next to England demanded. "I wanna get home for the 4th of July!" There was a chorus of agreement from the others.

"Right now," the information clerk replied. "AA are trying to fix the problem but they're also trying to locate another plane, just in case they can't repair it. I ask you to be a little patient and we'll get you on aboard as soon as possible." Most people moved away, grumbling while some stayed to argue. England decided to put the time to good use, sat down and continued stitching.

* * *

Three hours later, still waiting for the announcement, England had made good progress on what he was sewing. He had just finished the part he was working on when the PA system came to life.

"Will the passengers for AA Flight 626 to Philadelphia please make their way to the departure gate!" England put his sewing back into his carry on as other passengers gathered their own bags and he went to the gate, gave his boarding pass and, finally got on the plane. He found his seat and settled down as he waited for the other passengers to be seated and for the plane to take off. When the plane was in the air and permission was given to be able to undo the seat belts, England got his bag from the overhead compartment and took out his sewing to continue where he left off. When what he was making was finished to his satisfaction, he put it away and settled down to sleep as the plane flew on through the night.

He woke at three in the morning of the 4th of July, one hour before the plane was due to land. He smiled as he thought of how surprised America was going to be when he actually turned up. In fact, all the countries would be surprised when he walked in. He coughed slightly as he thought about what was waiting for him on the other side of the pond. Red, white and blue and a myriad of star-spangled banners flying everywhere and there was the headache. He just hoped he could do this without getting too sick.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," the pilot's voice came over the plane's PA. "Due to unforeseen problems, we will be diverting to Atlantic City International Airport. Arrangements are being made to transport you to Philadelphia. We apologise for the inconvenience!"

Atlantic City! That was about sixty miles away, give or take and they would be stuck at the airport until who knows what time until they could leave, assuming they could find transport on this important American holiday. England could hear the other passengers voicing their own concerns about getting to their destinations. But there was nothing England could do but hope for the best that he would arrive, if not on time, then at some point of America's party. He had to get there! He had to!

The plane landed, England got his bag and he departed the plane, passing through Passport Control and Customs. Everyone was met by a young woman in an airport uniform who had the information about what they would do next.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced. "We have arranged transport to Philadelphia, however, it won't be available until seven o'clock." England was a little more optimistic. Travel time would over a hour, two hours tops! He could reach Philadelphia by nine o'clock. The only drawback was he had to wait nearly eight hours as he forgot that Philadelphia was five hours behind London so it was just after 11 o'clock, still on the 3rd here. He would find a place to put his head down and he should be able to make America's party with plenty of time to spare.

* * *

America woke early on his birthday and the first thought that went through his head was _Did England use that ticket?_ He would have arrived yesterday evening, if he had. America did not take it as a good sign and hoped England had arrived and checked into a hotel instead of coming to America's house. He tried to distract himself with his plans for the important day ahead as he had a lot to do so he got showered and dressed and headed downstairs for breakfast.

The catering company America had hired arrived at nine o'clock to prepare for the party and the pyrotechnic people arrived at ten to set up the fireworks. America took care of hanging the bunting and decorating the house. His guests would start arriving at twelve and America hoped England would be one of them.

* * *

England cursed himself for not finding his own transportation to Philadelphia!

The transport arranged was a bus. That did not arrived until ten-thirty and the mood of the other passengers was turning ugly. England was not very happy either, especially when the bus broke down half way there after struggling through the holiday traffic. He had been sitting with his fellow stranded passengers, sweating in the heat and fighting a headache at all the 4th of July decorations he had seen as the bus passed celebrations already in process. The man sitting next to him began to grumble.

"This has to be the worst 4th of July ever," he moaned. "What about you?" England shrugged.

"Not the worst but a very close second," he replied, thinking back to the first one and what it lead to. The man turned to stare at him.

"British?" he asked. England smiled.

"Guilt as charge," he joked. The man laughed at the idea that he was stuck on a broken-down bus with a Brit on the 4th of July. It was just so ironically funny.

"A Brit on the 4th of July," he chortled. "What are the odds? Well, no hard feelings, pal!" He held out his hand for England to shake. England looked at the man's hand and thought if he looked on shaking this man's hand as a test and passed, it might make things easier when he met America. He took the man's hand, laughing at what this man might think if he knew he was shaking hands, not just with an Englishman but with England himself. England was half-tempted to tell him just to see the reaction but he resisted it.

"Name's Joe Anderson," the man introduced himself, giving Arthur's hand one last shake before letting go.

"Arthur Kirkland," England replied with his human name.

"So, what are ya doing in the good ole USA on the fourth, Artie?" the man asked. England resisted the urge to wince.

"A friend's birthday," England replied. "It's the first time I've been here for it. Something always got in the way." _My own stubborn pride!_

"You two must be close for you to come all the way here," Joe commented. "When's the birthday?"

"We're like brothers," England replied, evasively. "And his birthday's today."

"No kidding!" Joe said. "Born on the 4th of July! Well, tell him Happy Birthday from me!"

"If we get there," England huffed as the driver came back on the bus. He did not look like he had good news and the other passengers guessed that too.

"Sorry, folks!" he announced. "I can't fix it. I'll radio for another bus but we have a wait." England began to doubt that they were going to get there. He decided to call Canada and let him know that he was here in the States but stuck. He dug into his bag to look for his phone but could not find it and then he realised.

"Bollocks!" he swore. He had left his phone back in Britain and had no way to call anyone. "I left my phone at home." Joe pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to England. England thanked him and went to type in Canada's number.

No signal! England sighed as he handed back the phone. He finally decided to come to America's party and now everything was conspiring to keep him away. The driver radioed back to his base (how he could use his radio but mobile phones did not work was beyond him) and now they were in for another wait.

* * *

At America's Philadelphia home, nations were arriving for the 4th of July/birthday party and the barbecue was fired up. Everything was in place except one thing. The same thing that was missing year after year.

America stood, looking down the road as nation after nation arrived except the one he wanted here most. If England were to come, it would make his birthday but with the ticket America gave him, he should have been here by now. There was still time but, with past experience, he had his doubts. Canada came up beside him as he watched Germany arrive with Italy. Italy bounced up to America and gave him a hug.

"Vee~," he said. "Happy Birthday, Mr America." And he handed America a gift. Pasta, of course. Germany followed him up.

"Happy Birthday, America," he greeted and presented his present. An alarm clock, a hint to get to the World Meetings on time that was not lost on America, no matter how clueless other nations misguidedly thought he was. America shook Germany's hand and he and Italy went to the backyard where the party was set up.

"No sign of England?" Canada asked. America shook his head and sighed.

"He's not gonna show, is he?" he said. "I was hoping this time, he might come round but I was dreaming, wasn't I." Canada put his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Don't give up yet, eh," he encouraged. "There's still time!" America gave a smile that was not at it's usual killer watt brilliance and he turned to greet Hungary and Austria while Canada fell back and took out his phone, scrolled through his list of contacts to find England's number and pressed it.

* * *

Back in Britain, England's phone sat on the fireplace mantle, ringing away with no one to hear it.

* * *

It took another three hours for the new bus to arrive and then they were finally off again but got wrapped up in traffic once more and it took another two hours to reach Philadelphia and they were taken to the airport where everyone began to make their own arrangements to get where they were going to. After struggling for a while, England finally found a cab to take him to America's house.

Once again, traffic struck! Here in Philadelphia, it was especially hectic and the cab became trapped and once again he was delayed. It was now seven-thirty and the sky was darkening. England was getting desperate as the traffic showed no sign of moving. He had to get there before dark and the fireworks started.

That was the dead-line before America gave up on him for good!

* * *

America had told Canada that he would give England until the fireworks and he looked toward the darkening sky. The fireworks were scheduled for when the sun set at about eight-thirty so there was less than an hour left and there was still no sign of England.

Everybody in the yard was still having a good time but America could not enjoy it until England was there. But it was looking less and less likely and the sky grew darker. Some people began to shoot off their fireworks early but America did not see the point of that. He preferred to wait until the sun set completely.

Still no sign of England!

* * *

England looked at his watch again. It was eight fifteen and he was still a distance away from America's house and, as the cab turned a corner, another snag revealed itself. Someone was having their own celebration and their guests had parked their cars, blocking the road and there was no other way to America's house.

"Drop me here!" England told him. "I'll go the rest of the way on foot." He paid the driver, grabbed his bag, left the cab and began running.

* * *

Everyone was gathered at the backyard fence, waiting for the fireworks to begin. America was stood back from the crowd, looking toward the front of his house but there was still no sign of England and America turned back to look at the sky, ready for the fireworks and the pyrotechnist was ready to set them off. The sun was almost gone and that was when the fireworks would start.

England was not coming! America should have realised that he would not but he had been so hopeful. If England came, they could put the whole Revolutionary War behind them and, maybe they could be brothers again. Or maybe even closer. It was what he wanted most in the world but as the first firework shot into the sky, America's heart sank.

"Happy Birthday, America!"

America turned at the sound of England's voice and saw him standing behind him. England's face was red, he was panting hard and slightly sweaty as if he had been running and he was carrying a bag. England looked at America as if he did not know what to expect from him. England knew the fireworks had just begun but he did not know if that was too late or not. America looked back at him as if trying to figure if he was really there or not.

"I thought you weren't gonna come," America finally said. England gave a soft smile.

"The plane was delayed," he explained. "Then diverted. Then the bus bringing us to Philadelphia from Atlantic City broke down. We had to waited for another and we kept getting caught in traffic. Finally, my cab couldn't get to your house because cars were blocking the street and I had to run and ….." America ran up to England and glomped him.

"You're here!" he exclaimed, hugging England tight. "That's all that matters!" America was so happy! England was here! His _brother_ was here and this was everything he could have hoped for. He would not let England out of his hug.

"I've been a proud fool," England admitted. "Forgive me!"

"Every time," America replied. "Welcome, bro!" England smiled.

"Not that I don't like your hugs," he said. "But breathing's becoming a problem!" America finally let him go, his killer watt smile back. England was here! He was finally here!

"Hey, Jerk England! When did you turn up?"

Both men turned to see Sealand, staring at them. England then did something that surprised both Sealand and America. He walked up to Sealand, knelt in front of the boy and enclosed him in an almost bone-crushing hug. Sealand gave England an almost freaked out, sideways look and then England let him go.

"What was that?" Sealand asked. England smiled at the micronation.

"Sealand," he said. "We're going to take a look at the sea floor under your platform and see how we can make it more stable." Sealand looked at England the way he does when he catches him talking to Flying Mint Bunny.

"Whatever!" he replied and ran back to Sweden and Finland who handed Sealand a glass of soda. England smiled at the complete family unit.

"You feeling all right, Iggy!" America asked. England nodded and looked around at the yard, seeing the nations enjoying the fireworks flashing in the sky, framed by the bunting and he realised that red, white and blue were not just the colours of the American flag, they were the colours of the British flag too. England's headache vanished in a figurative puff of smoke. And speaking of red, white and blue ….

"America," America looked back at England. England dug into his bag and pulled something out and handed it to America.

"I have a present for you," England said and America took it. He unfolded the stitched material and saw that it was the stars and stripes. Red and white stripes sewn together with a blue square that had fifty little embroidered stars dotted in lines across it. Next to it, the red crosses of the Union Flag were outlined in white on a blue background. The two flags were stitched together, side by side.

America got the meaning immediately. America and England, Alfred and Arthur, side by side. He looked back up at England with tears in his eyes.

"We'll have a serious talk," England said. "About the past and the future. Clear the air, once and for all. There are some things I want to tell you and some things I want to ask you. But we'll do that tomorrow, today is about you!"

"That's great!" he exclaimed and hugged England again. "It's what I've always wanted!" The disturbing vision of the future receded into the distance and was replaced with a much happier one.

"Happy 4th of July, America!"

And the Special Relationship grew!

 **That was cutting it fine. The moment England decides to go, everything conspires against him but the main thing was he made it. I'm hoping that I've got the timing right. I wasn't sure what time the sun set in Philadelphia but a website said about eight-thirty and also that Philadelphia is five hours behind London. I hope that's correct! The flight number 626 is for June 26th, a new important date in American history. Joe Anderson is just a name I made up and does not relate to anyone.**

 **Well, that's the end of this 4th of July Carol and I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it and, America! Have a great day!**

 **So until the next story I post,**

 **Hasta la Pasta!**


	7. Special 2016 chapter : The Talk

**Happy 4th of July, America. Just a little extra chapter to mark the day a year on! Enjoy!**

 **Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya!**

 _ **The Talk**_

A week had passed since England had finally come to his birthday party and America was amazed at the change. In the days after the party, England had stayed and they went to places that England would normally avoid. Lexington and Concord, Boston Harbour, the Old North Church and they even went to see the Declaration of Independence.

It was almost like England was exorcising his demons and letting go of the last of the past concerning the Revolutionary War and America could not be happier about that. England had promised to talk the day after America's birthday but it was actually a few days later before they sat down and had a heart-to-heart about it all.

"Why did you rebel, America?" England asked. "I know it's academic now but I would really like to know." America sighed.

"It wasn't the taxes and laws," he replied. "That's what riled my people up and I know that was your boss. I didn't intend to rebel but I thought it was my chance to become like you, to stand with you as an nation all my own. I didn't want a war, I just wanted to be able to prove I could stand on my own two feet but, the next thing I knew, we were fighting and pointing muskets at each other across a muddy field. I didn't want to be your enemy, I wanted to be your equal." And he sighed again.

"Why did you fight me?" America asked and England knew he meant as Arthur, not England. "Why couldn't you have just let me go and be my own person," England looked down at his lap.

"You were my little brother," he replied and then he looked up. "You were like my son and you were pulling away from me. You were the most important thing in my life and I didn't want to lose you. But I suppose I tried to hold on too tight and you slipped through my fingers."

"You never lost me!" America cried. "I wanted you to come back after it was all over so we could still be together but you refused to talk to me."

"I was hurt," England replied. "My pride had been wounded and I wanted to be as far away from anything to do with the former colonies as I could. I wasn't in the mood to listen back then and the longer we stayed estranged, the harder it was to make up. Even when we finally made up enough to talk, I still found any mention of the war painful which was why I wouldn't come to your birthday party. I was always so ill when anything to do with the war came up and I didn't want you to see me like that." England sat back in his chair and leant his head over the back.

"I let it eat me up so much," he said. "That I turned my back on Sealand because he reminded me of you. The idea of him growing up and leaving me was more than I could bear so I turned away from him." America looked guilty.

"I didn't realise how much my independence had affected you," he muttered. England looked up.

"I let it affect me," he replied. "I should have realise that you had grown up but I insisted in treating you like a child that needed my guidance and protection. I was like one of those fathers who tries to force their children to live the life they have mapped out for them when the children want something different. I wouldn't listen! Maybe if I had, we wouldn't had spent so much time apart and I wouldn't have missed so many of your birthdays because of my stubborn pride." America came over to England and hugged him.

"That doesn't matter any more," he whispered into England's ear. "You're here now, that's what counts." England hugged America back.

"I should have told you this a long time ago," England said. "But I'm proud of you! I'm proud of the nation you've become." America smiled and pulled away from England.

"There was another reason I wanted to stop being your little brother," he said, cupping England's face in both hands. He moved forward again and pressed his lips over England's.

England was surprised for a second but then melted into the kiss. He brought his arms up and around America's neck while America wrapped his arm around England's waist and hugged him tight. After a minute, they finally pulled away and just looked at each other, not saying a word but they did not need to.

For America, it was the best birthday ever!

* * *

 _A year later …..._

The sun rose on the morning of the 4th of July and America, both the personification and the actual country, began to awake. America stretched and yawned, wanting to go back to sleep but he had a lot to do today. The party would not organise itself and the catering company would be here soon and he would need to be ready and dressed before they arrived. He sat up and was about to get out of bed when a hand reached up, grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down.

"Five more minutes," a drowsy England said next to him and pulled him into a sleep hug. America chuckled and, five minutes later, got the first present of his birthday.

A good morning kiss from his English boyfriend.

 **Sorry! I'm a sucker UsUk! And Gerita! And Spamano! And PruCan! And …. well you get the picture!**

 **Hasta la Pasta!**


End file.
